


Not A Friend In The World

by Oi_Im_a_Shelby_too (in_a_blog_in_the_ground)



Category: Peaky Blinders
Genre: Friendship, I wanted to explore character interaction, can't help it :P, obnoxiously detailed. so sorry, post-ep.6, tommy/grace is implied but in the background for this story at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/pseuds/Oi_Im_a_Shelby_too
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...except maybe for someone kind of unexpected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Friend In The World

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I'd read How it goes by Miralana, and Meeting the Family by notabadday, and I liked all the little character interactions. And then I read May We All Die Twice by modiste (it's really good, go read it), and I liked the idea of Grace reappearing after her attempted murder/faked suicide/whatever. Taking a different road than that story, I was thinking about where she would go to first, maybe to recollect herself or whatever, and the Garrison after hours seemed like the logical choice (solid, familiar place and all). There's going to be a rather long explanation of why I chose Arthur to be there/it to be Arthur's pov pretty much in the end notes though, so I'm just going to leave this here for now...

“That ain’t right…”

Arthur takes another swig of dark beer, and peers again at the papers scattering the office desk. The numbers aren’t adding up, though he was sure he had them working earlier.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubs his face, trying to focus. The clock says half past two in the morning. He reckons he might as well stay the night at the Garrison. Again.

He reaches again for the beer when there is a rap on the window.

Head whipping around, he reaches instead for the gun on a shelf as he glares at the silhouette behind the frosted glass.

The rapping comes again, and a soft voice speaks. “Arthur? Arthur, is that you? Please…Arthur, please…”

Shock stills his hand. But they said that she was dead…

Half-convinced he’s just hearing things again, and against his often-ignored-anyway better judgment, Arthur stands, and opens the window.

Standing in the alley looking up at him, arms wrapped around herself against the cold, is Tommy’s woman, that pretty Irish barmaid, his friend…Grace.

Disbelief turns swiftly to elation at seeing her alive, but turns again to anger as he remembers what she has done.

This was the woman who betrayed them to the coppers, who almost got them all shot in the street by Kimber’s men. To protect his family, to protect Tommy, he should turn her away, he should shut the window in her face.

But he remembers her singing, her wry humor, her patience the many, many times he got angry or frustrated, how she makes his brother smile in a way he hasn’t seen in a long, long time…

And he cannot.

With a low, resigned growl, he reaches through the window for her arms to pull her in. “Well, c’mon then.” Her foot catches on the sill as she passes though, and she stumbles, falling against his side. He unceremoniously steadies her with one arm around her waist while shutting the window with the other; sparing a quick glance from side to side to check if they were seen. He thinks he hears a noise, but the street is empty.

Grace is barefoot in the office, dark mud staining her feet. She is wearing nothing but a shift, and shivering despite the warmth inside. She looks about ready to collapse.

Concern vastly overwhelms desire and Arthur leaves the office, returning with his great long coat and wrapping it around her shoulders without a word, though he acknowledges to himself that he finds her as beautiful as ever. Covering his embarrassment with a cough, he pushes her toward the lone chair.

“Do you want some tea? I’ve got some somewhere…” Arthur leaves the room again, coming back to shove aside beer and whisky bottles on the desk to make room for a pot of lukewarm tea and a shot glass, lacking for a proper cup.

Grace accepts the awkward offering with that lovely half-smile, and a murmured “thank you,” while Arthur goes to lean uncomfortably in the doorway, conflicted and confused. Neither of them speak for a long moment, but then both do.

“Grace, what the fuck-”

“Please, just let me explain-”

Arthur stops short and looks at her. Her eyes are pleading, begging for his understanding. Sighing, he waves a hand for her to continue.

“Arthur, it was my job. I thought I would come here and make a difference against the IRA, but when I met Tommy…” Grace pauses, and bites her lip, suddenly feeling shy. This is the first time she’s spoken out loud to anyone else her feelings for Tommy Shelby, and she almost wants to go on, but Arthur looks away and won’t meet her eye, so she does not.

“That last day-” Grace stops again, shocked into silence at the look of rage that flashed across Arthur’s face as his head whipped up. It is gone as fast as it came, to be replaced by a look of disappointment and hurt that somehow makes her feel worse. But she presses on. “That last day, I swear I didn’t know he was going to tell Kimber! I had no idea what would happen, I never wanted any of you hurt! I’m so sorry…” Grace looks up. Arthur’s expression has softened, though is still guarded.

“I was at the train station, I was going to leave. Campbell came up behind me with a gun…Next thing I knew I was underwater. I made it to a dock, somehow, somehow, crawled out…my clothes were gone, my shoes…” Grace starts shaking badly, the shock of the last few nights has hit her all at once. “I didn’t know where I was, I’ve been hiding on barges, in warehouses by the wharves…but then I found the Lane…” It is all too much, and Grace begins to sob, though she bravely tries to keep her composure. She barely registers Arthur’s hands, at first hesitantly, then firmly on her shoulders, and she raises her head to see him kneeling before her, worry mixing with fury in his eyes, though the fury is not for her, she recognizes with relief. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I’m sorry, I have nowhere else to go…they know my apartment, Ada hates me, Polly wants to kill me, and Tommy, Tommy…” Grace’s eyes well up again. “I saw the light in the Garrison…I have nowhere else to go…”

Arthur watches her and waits for her to pull herself together. She wipes the last tears from her face, but he can still feel her shaking, and she won’t meet his gaze. He sits back on his heels to give her some space, and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says into the quiet of the room, and she looks up, surprised at his answer, though he is not. What else is he to do?

“You can have that cot I keep in the back. But in the morning…I’m going to bring Tommy here, alright? And you two can sort it.”

Grace nods and lowers her head again so Arthur does not see the flush of emotions across her face.

Leaving the office to give himself a moment to process what was happening, Arthur enters the back room to give it a cursory tidy, not knowing what else to do but flip the thin mattress on the cot and give the pillow an experimental fluff. No one uses the space but him.

He hears a thump, and rushes out, finding Grace trying to push herself off the floor.

“Shit,” he curses, and is at her side.

She weakly waves a hand, trying to reassure him. “I’m alright.”

“Like hell…” he growls. She is utterly exhausted, and he sees now that under the dirt, her feet are bruised and bloody. With a grunt, he sweeps her up and carries her into the back room. He tries not to think about how in those few moments she has relaxed against his chest.

By the time he lays her down on the cot, she is practically asleep. He watches silently from the doorway as her breathing settles and becomes steady. Closing the door to a mere crack, he leaves quickly and enters the barroom.

_I need a fucking drink._

Bringing the entire bottle into the private side-room with him, Arthur’s bloodshot eyes register that it is approaching four. Settling onto the hard bench, he reckons he should try to get what sleep he can. He does not relish what the day will bring.

_Fuck me._

-

A few hours later, far sooner than he would like, the doors of the Garrison slam open, jolting Arthur from uneasy sleep.

Stumbling out and brushing the hair back from his face, who Arthur sees wakes him up fully.

“Where is she?” Tommy’s menacing snarl cuts through the empty barroom and hits Arthur before his fists do, grabbing Arthur’s collar and slamming his back against the wall.

“The fuck, Tommy!” Angry now, Arthur knocks Tommy’s hands away and pushes him back.

“Don’t fuck with me, Brother,” Tommy warns. His blue eyes are hard and utterly serious.

“Yeh, she’s here, but how-” Arthur finally looks lower. Finn is behind Tommy, alarmed that his brothers are fighting; this isn’t what he expected his news would bring.

Tommy is even more furious now. “What is she doing here, Arthur? Why would she come to you? Are you fucking her, Arthur?”

“Don’t be stupid, Tommy, of course I’m bloody not!”

Though Tommy rarely loses control, Arthur knows his temper builds and builds. Unfortunately, Arthur’s is the same way, and he raises a hand to grab Tommy’s arm.

This was a mistake. Tommy pulls away out of reach, hauls back, and slams his fist into Arthur’s jaw, knocking his head to the side, but from his lowered position, Arthur surges up with a fist into Tommy’s stomach, followed by an elbow cracking against his face. Roaring, the brothers grab at each other, prepared to fight more, but are halted, fists upraised, by a clear voice.

“Stop! Tommy!”

Arthur watches as his brother’s eyes go wide, the fight completely draining out of them as Tommy slowly turns to see Grace, alive if not well, still dressed in the long grey coat, holding onto the doorway leading to the back room for support. Arthur keeps a cautionary hand on his shoulder, unsure how he will react to his traitorous love, back from the dead.

Tommy’s voice cracks slightly as he says her name. “Grace…” He stands, dumbfounded, not even noticing when Arthur releases him, saying softly, “You two should have a talk…”

Grace nods and straightens off the doorway as Arthur gives Tommy a gentle shove in her direction. When they have disappeared and the door closes behind them, Arthur relaxes and heaves out a long breath. “I need a fucking drink,” he says aloud this time, going behind the bar.

Rummaging around beneath the counter, he produces two steins, and draws a light beer into both. Without preamble, he drains one in a single go, the foam lightening his moustache before he wipes it away on the back of a hand.

“Well,” he says to a nervous Finn, still standing by the door, twisting his flatcap in his hands, “come here and have yours before I do.”

Finn cautiously approaches and climbs onto a high stool. Gingerly, he reaches for his drink and takes a sip while Arthur refills his own. Neither say a word.

Finally, Finn clears his throat and says in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Arthur.” His eldest brother regards him over the rim of his cup. “It was me who told Tommy Grace was here. I saw her wandering up from the docks last night, but I thought she must have been a ghost, on account of everyone saying she was dead and all…but when I saw you pull her in here, I knew she must be alive! I thought Tommy would be happy…so I told him this morning. I didn’t think he’d come here and fight with you! But I guess when he saw you didn’t come back last night…I’m sorry, Arthur! I didn’t mean nothing bad…”

His face is so forlorn that Arthur has to resist reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair, knowing that his ten-, ah, no, eleven-year-old pride will rail against being treated like a child that needs comforting. Instead he takes another long drink from his stein. “I know. We’re square, Finn.”

Finn looks up with a relieved smile and Arthur returns it with a tired one. They sit in silence a long while, waiting for Tommy and Grace.

They are playing quarters and Finn has just bounced a coin into Arthur’s cup when the door finally opens.

Tommy slowly walks down the length of the bar, Grace staying in the doorway, the long coat wrapped around her like a robe. The thought that maybe more than talking had just happened between them flashed through Arthur’s mind.

“Arthur. She-, I-,” Tommy starts to say, apologies coming to him with difficulty.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Arthur interrupts before Tommy is forced to say more. “Piss off and get her set up. Get her out of here,” he continues without malice, waving a hand towards the door.

Without a further word, Tommy nods once in thanks, and leaves.

“You too, Finn,” Arthur says. Finn hops off the stool, bobs a nod at Grace, and follows Tommy.

Grace comes along the bar, tracing Tommy’s steps from earlier. She sits in Finn’s abandoned seat across from Arthur. He begins to reach below the bar to find her a mug, but she stops him with a hand upon his arm.

“Thank you for everything, Arthur,” she says softly. “You will always be my friend.”

He looks at her hand still on his arm, and chuckles quietly to himself. “Grace, Grace. You're going to be the death of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's why I thought Arthur would be the logical, best first person to see Grace after she comes back.
> 
> -They are friends. Their interactions that we have seen have been casual and easy, they are clearly comfortable with each other. 
> 
> -Arthur is not particularly emotionally tied to her, unlike Tommy. While I do think he finds her attractive, out of respect and love for Tommy, I don't think he would ever try to make a move on her. And before anyone adds that Tommy would beat him up for it, while true, I don't think this is the main motivator (de-motivator?) for his discretion because clearly, Arthur does not give a shit about himself (eg: Aunt Polly practically saying so in her little prayer; that hanging scene; his resigned/accepting look downwards when Tommy brings up their possible demise from Kimber's men; THAT HANGING SCENE shall I continue?)
> 
> -Arthur seems like he'd be the most forgiving. (eg: he desperately wants to believe his dad is a changed man; he speaks up to John about Tommy after everyone thinks Tommy turned Freddie in)
> 
> -Arthur seems to have the easiest relationship with those he cares about/accepts as family (eg: always chilling/messing with John; pretty sure that’s him drunkenly swinging Ada around at John’s wedding; helps Esme out of the car even though he’s pretty much just met her that night, but hey, she’s John’s wife now, thus family; don’t even get me started on how happy he is when Ada comes back into the fold, with a baby, no less XD I guess I just wasn’t expecting that of him). My point is, he seems to pretty much accept Grace as family up to the last bar scene at least, because he’s all ribbing Tommy about her right before everything blows up on them all.
> 
> I feel like I had more in mind at the time, but these reasons are basically why. Guys, I just have a lot of feelings k? XD Agree, disagree? Guys, let's talk Peaky Blinders. All of it. Go XD


End file.
